Routine
by glitterscarves
Summary: Neville has his routine, Draco has his work. Perhaps things are not as easy as they seem. DM/NL. 2nd Chapter as a prelude.
1. Routine

**Well this is the first thing I have actually finished in a while. Bit of Nev/Dray angst. This is the main story but the second chapter details the beginning of their relationship, just because it was hard not to write it and to clear up any confusion :D.

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**Routine**

Neville woke up to the alarm, the same time as yesterday and the same time as he would the next day. Yawning into his hand, he rolled onto his other side and pulled the blankets over his head. Five more minutes. He desperately wanted to fall asleep again but he knew it was morning. Time to move.

The silence of the morning was broken by the muffled pad of footsteps, stumbling down the hallway. He poked his face out of the blankets, eyes pointed to the door, waiting. Then he was there, small and blond, chubby fingers clutching a tatty green and blue dinosaur. Neville smiled and stepped out of bed and after pulling on his house coat, scooped up his son and carried him into the kitchen.

Normal morning routine continued, he put bread under the grill and popped the kettle on only to be confronted with the first reminder. The coffee mug. Upside down, dripping onto the draining board. Neville turns away, horrified. Too early. Something falls to the floor and he turns around. Tom points at his feet. It was the mug, he dropped it. Sighing he sweeps the mess up, trying to forget the hassle, the lie he will fail to invent.

By this point the toast is burnt. Neville sighs, louder and tries again. This time he concentrates. But the water in the kettle has gone cold. He boils it again, butters Tom's toast and places the plate in front of him, together with a small glass of orange juice. Then his own breakfast.

"What we doing today daddy?"

Neville looks up from the porridge in front of him. The same thing they did every day, the same things he did every day. House work, games and gardening. Dinner, bath, bedtime story, television, shower, sleep. But he smiled, widely. Tried to make it sound interesting, Tom grinned back. Neville's chest tightened. Sometimes home life was worth it.

Hurriedly he dressed himself and then his son. Next to housework, hoovering, polishing and mopping. Then the worst room of the morning. The en suite bathroom. On the floor, the same towel, boxers and t-shirt. With a grimace he picked up every item and shoved them into the laundry basket.

Then games, toys and general time with his son. Into the garden next and while Neville preened and planted, his son sat behind him running a fire engine across the grass, bounced a ball off the patio and scooped up dirt with small hands which he threw about the garden. Dinner next, just a small meal for his son. He would eat later. Then another batch of games and the ritual argument about bath time. Finally he would force his son into the water which he tended to enjoy once the toy boats came out and the perfect opportunity to drench Neville. Another argument about going to bed, a deliberative decision on which story he wanted. And sleep. Wonderful, beautiful sleep. Smiling, Neville pressed a kiss to the young boy's forehead and softly closed the door.

Next came making his own dinner and well...his dinner too. Some pasta concoction would do, the wine served with it would take away from the lack of adventure. The door opened and closed, a bit too harshly considering a cough could wake Tom but he did not comment. He came into the kitchen but didn't say anything. Catching sight of the bottle of wine, he poured two glasses, grabbed one and walked into the living room.

Neville squeezed his eyes shut, chanted a small phrase continually in his head and slowed down the cooking. He needed time and the other would not be back in the kitchen until the wine ran dry. The sauce needed something, a kick perhaps? In the pantry something caught his eye, a glass bottle, half full of vodka. With a sigh, he knocked back six gulps and choose not to consider what it meant.

"You alright?"

Gentle words, a tone he rarely heard. Almost unrecognisable. But if he died he would have to pay someone to look after Tom. Neville sighed.

"Yeah, just looking for the chilli."

"It's in your hand..."

Neville laughed, no harm in furthering his husband's convictions that he was mentally unstable. He shook some into the sauce and served it, the other plate taken into the lounge before Neville even had time to breathe in and out again.

Sitting alone on the couch he forced food into his mouth, letting the news programme wash over him. Before he would try conversation but now he knew better. Knew there was no point as he had nothing to say, nothing worth listening to and nothing he wanted to hear. Dinner done, Neville washed the plates on his own, he did not help. After all he did nothing but sit about all day, his husband had an important job.

He went back into the living room, sports this time. Neville sighed and picked up his book, some classical romance Hermione had decided he would enjoy. He wasn't sure if he did but it consumed his mind for a while.

"How is the book?"

"Good."

Then he got up, sat next to him and pulled Neville into him. This is the worst part. The obligation. Neville closes his eyes, tries not to revel in the warmth and bury further into it. But he does, he always does. Draco kisses the top of his head, just once. Neville wants to cry, desperately needs to. Instead he releases a muffled squeak and stands up.

"Beer or a glass of wine?"

Draco smiled and leaned forward, hands clutching his knees. He looked thoughtful, interested. "Beer" he said.

Neville hid in the pantry again, more sips straight from that glass bottle and then coffee, counter the taste. Not that Draco would kiss him. He hurried in, placed beer on the table and not in the hand waiting for it. Then back into the kitchen, no eye contact and no acknowledgement. His hands shook as he made the coffee, his breath was harsh but he didn't understand why. On the short walk back to the lounge, his grip loosened and in a graceful arch the cup hit the floor and smashed, the dark liquid spilling on his leg.

Draco rushed out, saw the mess and laughed. It was typical, almost expected of Neville. With a quick flick of his wand, the mess was gone as was his husband. Neville stood frozen for five minutes and then slunk upstairs, trying to forget.

It was one of those nights, the odd ones Neville constantly thinks about, turns over in his head and thinks about possible connotations. Tries to find some extraordinary sign that he is more than a convenient outlet. Draco isn't drunk, slightly buzzed. Happier than he would have been without. He undressed quickly and fell into bed, his hands found Neville quickly. Long fingers gripping to his hips and lips trying to find his through the haze of the dark.

Neville rolls his eyes, in the dark so of course he can't see. He wouldn't do it if he thought he could tell. This is his own comfort, his way of telling himself he was reluctant. Draco is hard. Neville can feel it and knows he is too but he does not focus on that. Shaky breaths and deep sighs he know belong to him ring off the walls and he's melting inside Draco's arms and fireworks burst in his stomach as those wonderfully soft lips press against his neck, his shoulder. That hand cups him and Neville snaps forward, whispers those syllables and slumps against him.

When its over, Draco falls asleep instantly. His breath ruffles Neville's hair and he smiles, these beautiful moments in the dark when he can pretend. These are the seconds, the precious minutes where everything is wonderful. How he thought it would be when he found Draco on that battlefield, beautiful but broken and just alone as he was. He pretends they are in that room in Snape's house, alone for four days. Just together.

In his sleep he grunts, sighs and rolls away. Neville burns, where their skin touched stings with separation. Sighing he rolls over too, burrows his head under the pillow and waits for the morning, waits for the rest of his life.

* * *

He wakes earlier than normal. Draco is up but only just, he is sitting up in the bed, legs up in front of him. He is on the phone, speaking quietly. His skin is shining, face radiant and such a beautiful smile. The exact smile always painted on Tom's face; it's a wonderful event, that they share something so integral. A laugh escapes his mouth, louder than he intended and he clamped his hand over his mouth, blushing.

"I'm in bed with him, I can't talk about that now," he says smugly.

But he stands and walks into the bathroom, clutching the phone to his ear like it was his life support. From the bed, Neville could hear the chatter, the occasionally laugh. Neville closed his eyes, waited for the tears but they did not come. He just felt numb, still. Soon Draco left the bathroom and began his morning routine. Neville just lay there, eyes sealed shut and said nothing. He had nothing to say as always.

Then it was yesterday all over again, another re-enactment of life. Of course he loved Tom, could not bear to be without him but there was something he needed desperately, he wanted to be trapped in a continual dress rehearsal of before. When Draco seemed to love him, when everything was perfect. But was it ever that wonderful? Was he simply filling in gaps with what he wanted? He couldn't really remember.

* * *

The day progressed. Neville kept functioning, kept smiling. Draco came home. He smelled different, feminine and the bile rose in Neville's throat. Slumping over the sink, he retched horribly. A hand settled on his back and he was swallowed in a cloud of a sweet, sickly scent.

"You okay baby?"

Baby...Never baby. Nevvy, lovely but never baby. He was sick again, bitterly. Images flashed in front of his mind, the hints he had been seeing for months. Those smiles, the smell and the bite mark on his chest. Those scratches, continual late nights and the physical separation, the movements of obligation. Draco pours him a glass of water, presses it into his hand but does not let go. He supports him. A memory hits him harder than the evidence, morning sickness and Draco's compassion, his adoration for Neville, for their child. He retched again but nothing was left except saliva.

"You smell different," he forced out.

Draco did not falter, not even for a second. If a man can lie to Lucius Malfoy he can to Neville Longbottom, he explained he had a meeting with middle aged women. The type who could not help but overload with make-up, perfume in helpless attempts to appear attractive. Neville wondered if that would be him, if that was him as he thought about the small attempts he made to be more attractive. To make Draco want him. He blushed.

"Don't worry, you know I could never be with anyone but you."

Not romantic, just a simple obligation. His husband and the father of his son, Neville had sacrificed so much for him, friends, family and his manhood, he had given birth for Draco, for their family. Just something to resent, a glorified babysitter. He couldn't stand and Draco supported him, the way he always did. There when it was necessary. Tears hit him like a wave and he was swallowed by them, he could do nothing but cry. Draco mumbled things to him, softened his hair. He thought he was frightened by the sickness, thought he was nothing but ill.

Slowly, he scooped him up and carried him to bed. Sliding him under the blankets, he kisses his forehead and told him to sleep. Neville just wanted him to disappear, to never see those eyes again, that blonde hair.

But he did sleep. For hours in solid blocks of nothingness. He almost forgot about Draco. When he woke no one was in the house, even Tom was gone and fear struck him so suddenly. Draco thought he was incapable, had taken their son to live with his mistress in a world of beauty, of normality. Away from him.

But there it was. A note from Draco, saying he was worried that Neville was too ill to take care of Tom. He was with Harry and Draco would pick him up after work, leaving Neville to his day, to rest. Neville was never angry but he was now. But more than that, he was hurt. Deemed incapable to do the one thing, he could do. The only thing he was good at.

He dressed with such a determinacy, nicely. A shirt and slacks, his smart jacket and he combed his hair. Into the street, on the bus and whilst he hated muggle transport and the dour expressions of the drivers, he confidently made it to the offices. He demanded to be seen. Neville Longbottom had never demanded anything in his life. But it worked. The woman behind the main desk sent him up in the elevator.

This was unusual. It was the same as those offices he had seen on television, grey, cheap carpets. Cubicles everywhere, booths filled with computers, picture frames, novelty pens, stuffed animals... He thought about Draco's version. Perhaps one picture of Tom? But probably not. That might put off the women, if they thought he had a son they may be unlikely to sleep with him.

"Excuse me, do you need any help?"

"Erm...yes. Where is Draco Malfoy's office?"

The woman looked uneasily suddenly but she told him. Around the corner, hidden away from everything else. Neville's memory brought him the final battle. Suddenly he was not on those horrible carpets but the stone floors of Hogwarts were under his shoes. He was wearing beaten sneakers, padding through the corridor and then into the Great Hall. Two feet away from the door. One foot. He could hear the sounds, the tingle of magic. Shouts, cries. Whispers. He was outside, Draco was there. Blond hair ruffled, mud on his cheeks. Robes open, pale chest. That scar through his right nipple. Except he got that during the battle, he wouldn't have it now.

But it wasn't his sneakers, it was his nice shoes. It wasn't the Great Hall, it was Draco's Office. It wasn't mud, it was lipstick. It wasn't his robes, it was his workshirt.

Neville was dizzy. He knew it. He had known it for so long but to see it. To no longer pretend his insecurities were simply getting the better of him. It was nothing but Draco's infidelity and his lack of physical attractiveness. They took a few seconds to notice Neville, she did first and pressed her lips to Draco quickly. Just to prove a point, Neville already knew.

"Nev..." was all he said.

He should run, move. Become aggressive. Hit someone? Shout? But he couldn't react, all he could was stand there. All he thought of was Tom. Visions of their young so reach up to Draco, the parent he could, should, model himself on. There was a rush of activity in front of him, dressing and then the woman was gone and the door closed. He was alone with his husband in this room with nothing to say.

"Sweetie..."

"Do you remember when you were unconscious?" Neville suddenly said.

Draco looked blank.

"After the war, when they thought you would die. I guess you can't remember, you were asleep..."

"Neville... I don't..."

"I stayed with you even though I thought you would die, just because I wanted to have the opportunity to be with you. No one looked at me the same, I was the one who supported a traitor, defended one."

"I never asked you to..."

"I never asked you to marry me, to impregnate me..."

"But you expected it. It was what you deserved, for your loyalty. I did the right thing, did what everyone wanted... You cannot be upset at me."

"I'm not...I am going to Harry's, going to get Tom. I'll see you tonight."

And Neville left. On the way to their son, he thought about their options. About running away. But he wouldn't do it. The one thing he had always wanted and Draco had too, a proper family. He was proper, they had a nice house, family meals and they both loved their son. In all honesty it was no different to how it had always been. He loved Draco, Draco loved... Well Neville didn't know if he loved anyone, if he ever had. One thing was certain, he had never loved Neville.

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His husband came home early that night, almost surprised to see the other but not disappointed. Tom ran to him, embraced him eagerly. He very rarely saw his father before bed on week nights. Draco was an odd addition to their evening routine but it worked well, he even got Tom to bed on time.

Then they were alone again. It seemed they had switched roles, normally Neville would be desperate to talk things over and Draco just wanting to forgot, well not tonight. Of course there were hundreds of questions bubbling in Neville's mind but he doubted whether he wanted to know the real answer to any of them.

"I don't love her, it is just sex."

Sex. Neville had often wondered what he brought to it. Besides willingness. Before Draco, during Hogwarts he had slept with Harry. The had lost their virginity together, romantically but without the true feeling. Neither had any other option, neither wanted to die a virgin. Well in reality Harry had thousands of options but he wanted someone he could trust, someone who would keep it quiet. It had been nice, lovely in fact. Harry was affectionate, kissed everywhere lingering on his nipples. At first he had thought that was a rather straight thing to do but Harry said it was the opposite, the mere fact he enjoyed the lack of proper breasts made it clear where his interests lie. Draco was the opposite, disliking even the feel of Neville's nipples.

"You're not even gay," Neville said slowly.

Draco looked confused. They had this discussion years ago, he claimed that he liked women but loved Neville. Except he didn't love him. He felt sorry for him? Was it even that?

"Not for other men, no."

"Not for me," Neville said without even letting Draco's sentence float in the air.

And then he was on him. Kissing him weakly, hands knotting in his hair as he whined into the other's mouth. He was so needy, desperate. Arms tightly around the other's waist he kept kissing, helplessly trying to find salvation. Neville pushed him away, bitterly.

"Nevy... please... I..."

"You can't finish that sentence."

"I need you...So much..."

"What to look after your son? Do the dishes? Clean up after you, take your fucking shit day after day Draco. Be a fucking obligation while you stick your hand up some stupid office girl's skirt?"

The tears hit. He had been waiting on the tears. Draco just stood there and slowly Neville turned and dragged himself to bed. Instead of sleep he lay there, replayed their life in his head. Favourite moments cheapening as he remembered the horrible details he tried to forgot. But one night would not change, never. The first time... Beautiful, damaged Draco.

It was late, movement for the past three weeks and slowly he was beginning to walk again. He was going to be fine, healthy; himself. The fear had been suffocating, drifting through his bloodstream and feeling him with terror. But Draco hadn't forced him to leave yet. They had shared kisses, touches and Draco would often grope him inappropriately (not that he really minded) but nothing that involved undress. Neville had been napping, and Draco was at the door. He wore his bathrobe, wet hair but it had been brushed back. Skin shiny and pink. The bath, of course the bath.

He walked in the room, slowly. Perhaps trying to be seductive but Neville was convinced it was nerves. Of course he had not done this before, not with a man and Neville suspected not with a female. But it didn't matter because he was lovely and beautiful and soft. They kissed and Neville slid his hand inside that bathrobe to find nothing but acre upon acre of hot skin. Touching, soft but frantic and then penetration. Ejaculation. But more beautiful kisses together with whispered words, confessions.

He opened his eyes, Draco flushed but not smiling as he would be normally. Nervous instead. He had the power, just as he did the first time. Many possibilities float in front of him, he could label this a meaningless last fuck, throw his husband out; he could become a jealous monster, waiting for the other to vanish; but he could be himself. Be Neville Instead he could kiss that hair, cuddle into the warmth and think about it tomorrow. Or maybe for the rest of his life. But one thing was certain, Draco may need him but Neville would always need him more, want him more.

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**Review pwease? ^.^**


	2. Prelude

**I don't know how this ended up longer than the actual story but here it is. I hope you understand that the way in which Neville and Draco deteriorates has a lot to do with time as well as the cracks that appear in any connection, so that is why this seems a bit affectionate. ^^**

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Routine - Prelude**

He tried to keep his role relatively small, enough to stop them but he couldn't quite kill. Mostly he distracted himself by defending others, dodging. That was until he found him. In those robes, he looked like his father but it was clear, seconds after he saw the flash of blond hair it wasn't. He was throwing bright fireworks at his former allies, tall and strong. Neville watched Draco Malfoy raise his wand, utter four syllables and saw Lucius Malfoy fall to the ground. Then Malfoy fell to the ground in a heap and Neville rescued him. Protected him from Nair, protected him from Bellatrix, protected him from Harry.

Perhaps it was not the Gryffindor action, definitely not brave but he stayed with Madam Pomfrey. He helped her dress wounds, move people onto beds all the while throwing glances at Malfoy, pale, drawn. Time did not pass normally, it seemed like hours, seconds, decades, minutes simultaneously. Neville had a headache.

Harry stalked in, Snape and Dumbledore behind him. Hair swept out of his face, shards of his wand held together by his fist and nothing more. His scar was red, bleeding. But his face held no expression. Numbly, he let the nurse lead him to a bed and lay down for the check-up. Neville just watched. Snape looked normal. Robes a little dirty, the hood on hanging down his back a new addition. Dumbledore was smiling. Neville wanted to hit him.

The rush came soon, Hermione, Ron, Weasley after Weasley, order members... Neville hid behind the curtains of Malfoy's bed, he did not expect anyone to come through. Of course someone did, Snape. He had changed and he did not notice Neville. His footsteps were gentle, he brushed the hair out of Draco's face, clasped his hand. This made Neville feel odd, stomach tight and sweat sprouted on his palms. Then Snape noticed.

Oddly he said nothing. Just sighed and left. Neville didn't understand but this wasn't an unusual feeling for him. He thought about the possible meaning of Snape's visit but he decided it was better not to consider it too much. Instead he took his place, holding those cold digits in his and just looking at that poised face.

* * *

He feel asleep on the bed, next to Malfoy. Snape woke him and ordered him to leave, he did what he was told but only made it to the door before he grabbed his arm. It appeared as though he had decided something for he said one thing:

"You will come with me."

Neville knew he should be nervous but he wasn't, more curious. It was one thing, just one simple instruction, something he could do much better than any potion. He was to look after Malfoy. Apparently, he was suffering from magical exhaustion. Lucius had been draining him for months, unsure of his son's allegiance to the Dark Lord and Draco had exhausted his resources with the killing curse. Neville understood. For once.

One thing Snape did not tell him but let him work out for himself was that Malfoy was in hiding, that he could not be found otherwise he would be taken into Azakaban. Neville would never let that happen. He simply told everyone he was going away with his grandmother for a while, she had died nearly seven months before but he knew no one would remember. They let him go with a quiet goodbye and almost instantly were absorbed into their own lives again.

It was small, Snape's house. Everywhere you turned there was books, dust and an odd smell of...age. But it was nice, kind of a safe house. Somewhere you felt you could hide, he understood why he lived here. He put Draco in the room at the top of the house, he didn't give Neville one who just assumed he was to sleep with Malfoy, there was enough room. It was against his nature to make a fuss, he hadn't been brought up that way

Snape was never there, he had to handle things at Hogwarts, things with the Order, with Harry. Neville did not care, didn't want to hear a word. He was much happier in this room, at the top of this house with the books, with Malfoy. Although it was very quiet, he was never lonely. His presence and the even breath was enough. He read a lot, read aloud. Made double breakfast, lunch, dinner. Poured him glasses of water. Developing a routine, Neville just let every day wash over him. It was peaceful, perfect.

But then he stirred. It started with a soft groan, Neville was almost sure he imagined but it escalated. Then he moved further, feet twitching. An inner conflict, he didn't quite know what to do, what to think. Of course it was wonderful but what would Malfoy think when he woke, what would he think of Neville, of his routine. He knew he needed to talk to Snape, he just hoped Draco would sleep until then.

Soon enough he drifted into stillness again but Neville could not stop staring, just waiting for the other to bounce up and insult him, humiliate him. Something inside of him wanted to get revenge, wanted to humiliate Malfoy but of course he couldn't. He just sat there, on the end of the bed. It was almost the opposite of school, he was living while Malfoy was hiding but ironically he was still watching Malfoy. It was always Malfoy.

Hours drifted past in the same way, Neville didn't eat. He just sat there. Until finally, Snape stepped in the room. Excitedly he told him everything. The other looked slightly disbelievingly, especially considering Draco was so still now but he was willing to humour Neville. He ran his finger along his left foot, he had always had ticklish feet and it twitched. That was unexpected. Longbottom looked rapturous, Severus was frightened. He wanted to warn him, that him sleeping in this room with Draco did not mean anything but he oddly he didn't want to tell him the truth. He didn't want to break the illusion.

"It might be a few days before any more movement..."

But Longbottom wasn't listening. He just looked at those pale feet sticking out of those covers in an interesting manner, as though he was storing the point about them being ticklish inside his head. Severus wanted to speak, opened his mouth to say something scathing. But he stopped. Perhaps Longbottom needed his delusions for a little while longer.

* * *

They ate dinner together in complete silence. Severus had not had his meals at home since the end of the war, this was the first time he was sitting with his house guest. Longbottom did not look interested, he kept flicking his eyes to the ceiling. Draco of course. This was youth and Severus did not resent it, although it would be nice if his joints worked more fluidly. He tried to put himself in the other's position, mentally tried to sympathise but he would never have done this. Too many walls. Innocence radiated from Longbottom and in this world, innocence was a terrible default. Draco would tear the poor thing to shreds in seconds, one disdainful look, one simple smirk and Longbottom would be destroyed.

That night Longbottom went to "sleep" rather early, Severus knew he wanted more time with the "sleeping beauty" as Severus had taken to referring to him inside his head. It made him feel slightly better, perhaps Longbottom knew what would happen when the other awoke. But then he realised, Longbottom knew nothing about anything unless the anything was green and had leaves. Draco definitely was not a plant, the idea did entertain Severus for a few moments but then he remembered. His godson was in a coma and would wake up to find adoring gazes from someone he would ridicule tirelessly, it seemed oddly cliché.

* * *

Neville was not quite sleeping, practically but not quite. He could not quite register his limbs or breathing but he knew he was alive, that he was warm and that Malfoy was only a few centimetres away. Something landed on him and he jumped, pulling wand from his pyjama sleeve and sitting up. Until he saw the offending object slide from his back and onto his lap. One pale, thin arm. Fine blond hair and one mole, paler than any Neville had ever seen, just beside the elbow.

He had moved. Again.

The moment was coming faster and faster, soon he would be wide awake and what would Neville do then? How would he cope? What on earth would he say? I love you? But he wasn't sure that was true. Sure he loved the time, reading to him, looking at him but did that mean he loved Malfoy? Did he even know who Malfoy is...was...is?

He fell back onto the bed, sighed loudly. Thought some more until they would not quite gel, they became more and more ridiculous as he tried to explore every eventuality. Then he did something he had wanted to do for a while, he turned on his side and lay behind Malfoy, curling around him. One hand on his hip. He could feel the bone through the thin fabric of his pyjamas. With a thumb, he stroked it. Malfoy was flesh and bone, he was a human. Sometimes he forgot that, it was nice to be reminded.

* * *

Morning. Beautiful, bright morning. Snape brought him breakfast. A surreal moment of awkwardness that Neville would remember for the rest of his life. The man had a sympathetic side, a reasonable side. He ate, leaving just enough in case the other would wake. Not that he would. By this point, he had read every book in the room that seemed interesting to him. Every single article on herbology had been read aloud. Now time for something more enticing to Draco, it may even wake him up. But instead he began with Hogwarts: a History. Newer than the rest of the books, it had a simple note in the front. Scrawl he recognised but could not quite associate with a face. _Sevvy, something that makes us both a celebrity, x. _Odd. He must have a lover. Neville thought he must have matured dramatically since the end, before that would have caused him to wrinkle his nose and fell ill. Now he simply accepted it.

He read all the boring bits, thinking of Professor Bin's lectures. Then he got to the more modern section, the section about Harry. Just the name seemed to change the air, Neville hadn't said it in so long. It made him feel ill and warm simultaneously, Harry held wonderful memories and horrible ones. Evenings of lust floated throughout his mind but then there was the battle, his refusal to accept anything but Draco being a Death Eater. His coldness. The opposite of what everyone thought he was.

A groan and a twitch of his whole leg. Draco was moving. He turned onto his side then flipped onto his back. Little whimpers. Neville could not stop himself from reaching out, curling around the other and gently kissed the others' cheek. It may have just been his imagination but he was sure Draco moved slightly closer. They lay still for ages until suddenly he turned so they were facing. His eyes were sealed but his breathing was not as calm, not the breath of sleep. The fear tensed Neville but he did not dare move, he would not miss this moment for anything.

Eyelashes, dark at the base, lightening until you could barely see the tips against his creamy skin. They fluttered, his nose wrinkled. Another whimper, nuzzling his face into the pillow. Neville knew time was fading, he was losing the chance and slowly he leaned forward... God those lips, slightly chapped but soft. Colours flooded his mind, sensation tingling throughout his veins.

But then Draco's lips moved against his.

And it was better.

Neville was light-headed and so wonderfully happy. He never wanted to move away, never wanted to leave Draco. This was perfect, beautiful. He could not comprehend that such a moment would, could happen to him.

Of course it ended. Draco's eyes opened but they were hazy, dull. He was weak but that was to be expected. While his mouth formed words no sounds came, just a quiet whine escaped his lips. Neville put his finger on his lips and pulled him to his chest, he did not need to speak yet.

They slept. Cuddled. Until it became too warm in the small room and Neville woke. Sweaty and stale but content. He needed to shower but he could not move, not yet. Another soft whine and words that almost sounded comprehensible. Gently, he turned Draco's head up and asked him to repeat himself.

He mouthed the words, "what happened?".

Neville thought of the million replies to the question, what he should tell Draco and what he wanted to tell him. Of course he could come up with fanciful replies, making himself seem wonderful. Or he could tell the truth, that all he did was grab Draco and run him into the hospital wing. Nothing else. But of course, Draco knew him and would know he did nothing of importance.

"It ended," was all he said.

Draco nodded and turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't fully pulled away but mostly. Neville understood, pain shot through him but he kept quiet. Lying on his back too, staring at the same ceiling panels, the way he would whenever he could not sleep whether he was at home or in Hogwarts.

Hours passed in relative harmony, they were so close to touching, breathing in the same air but without talking. Draco couldn't really and Neville could not think of anything fitting.

"Longbottom," Draco croaked, turning onto his side.

"Yes?" he said, facing the other man.

Closing his eyes tightly, Draco took Neville's face in between his hands and kissed him. It was odd, not practised and slightly nervous. This was a bizarre sensation, a sense of knowing flooded his mind, never before had he thought he would ever be more experienced than Draco Malfoy. But his kisses were sweet, strong and sharp. Slightly too eager with high pitched whimpers in the back of his throat.

Thin hands suddenly gripped his bum tightly, pushing Neville's hips into his. Shamelessly the other rubbed against him, breathing heavily. Neville wanted to keep calm, prevent things from becoming too intense but this was just too much for words. It was impossible not to be dragged into Draco's lust and suddenly all he could do was want...

Snape, of course, had to spoilt it. He opened the door and quickly shut it again. Neville was brought out of the trance and pulled away. Draco moaned quietly and grabbed him again, mouthing "please".

Neville stood up and sorted his shirt, pulling it straight. Slowly he opened the door, Snape walked in without a word. Heading straight to Draco, doing a few quick diagnostic spells and then a few physical health checks. He didn't say anything, looking at the blond with an odd curioisty.

"What is your name?" he said suddenly.

"Draco..."

"Second name?"

He said nothing, eyes crystalling over but not a single tear fell. Instead he simply looked at the floor , avoiding eye contact. Neville could nothing but stare, wishing to hold the other man close to him, kiss him again and again.

"Longbottom, can you leave us please?" Snape finally said, breaking the silence.

God he desperately wanted to say no. To refuse and to protect Draco from the daggers hiding in Snape's mind but he didn't, Neville Longbottom had never been brought up to disagree with his elders. His grandmother would be rocking in her grave if he ever acted in a rude manner, the only thing she had ever been proud of was his manners.

In the kitchen he made lunch for the three of them, sandwiches, sliced fruit and carrot sticks. But there was still no movement from upstairs. Looking through the fridge he found some ingredients to make a garlic dip for the carrots, next he moved to tea. Fixing a pot and laying out three mugs, sugar and milk. With a gentle flick he placed a warming charm over the tea pot and a cooling charm on the milk.

Next he paced. He thought about everything and worried. All he could think of was Snape telling Draco to avoid Neville, that he was better without him. Maybe that was true but... The war must have deluded him, made him think anything was possible. All they had shared was frantic kisses and desperate gropes. It meant nothing.

Snape came down the stairs, poured himself a mug of tea and sat at the table. He looked at Neville and nodded up to the ceiling. Finesse was never Neville's best attribute. Sighing Snape told him to bring Draco down for lunch and they would eat together. Nodding, he rushed upstairs, taking them three at a time. Outside the actual door, he paused, catching his breath. Delicately, he turned the door handle and walked in.

Draco was perched on the end of the bed, silver trails shining on his cheeks in the artificial light but he looked up and almost smiled.

"Lunch?" he offered.

The other man nodded and tried to stand but he wobbled, falling back. Neville rushed forward and took his hand, guiding him to the door. Nerves were slipping through his speech, he was talking a lot, in circles and about nothing. But Draco did not say anything, simply smiling.

Conversation did appear, away from anything slightly dangerous but it was pleasant. Almost like a comforting moment, the realisation it was over and they would be okay. And they would be okay, Neville was adamant.

* * *

Draco ate a lot as did Snape but he always did. Pride filled Neville, he felt like he had done something right for the first time in his life. Afterwards, they spoke for a little while longer until Snape got up and locked himself in his workshop with his potions. It was his way of relaxing and Neville respected that, besides nothing was better than time alone with Draco.

"Let's go back to bed," Draco forced out with a slight smile.

Nodding, Neville took his arm and once again led him to bed.

* * *

They spent weeks like that, kissing and touching; always drifting so close to _that _but never quite making it. Neville too reluctant and Draco too nervous. But it was harmonious, they ate meals as a three, had late night discussions and had even started addressing the war. Snape and Draco had their moments alone, Neville knew the discussed the war, Draco's parents and everything involved with the Dark Side. But Neville had everything else, Draco was suddenly liberated. Speaking constantly of everything that happened, their schooldays, the fear, the loneliness... Everything that mirrored Neville's Hogwarts' days.

But reality was seeping into their peace. Snape, or Severus as Neville now called him, had been working hard to reintroduce Draco to the wizarding world. With a large involvement from Harry. Neville was worried that if their peace was spoiled the Draco would vanish and he could never see him again. It was paranoia built out of insecurity but they had never defined their relationship, never given it boundaries. Maybe it was an intense relationship or simply a convenient release, Neville simply did not know.

Tonight was their last night in the peace, tomorrow Draco would begin his trial which was apparently a formality. He would be allowed out without any repercussions and could rejoin the wizarding world. They had not talked about it, where Draco would go...where Neville would go.

It was meant to be a celebatory meal but mostly they spoke in hushed tones about what had happened. Harry always changed the atmosphere in the house, he was a constant reminder of everything that happened. Normally when Harry was there for dinner, they would sit up, drinking firewhisky until the late hours but this evening, Draco stood up and announced he was going to bed at 8 o'clock.

Usually they would go to bed together but in a subtle manner. This evening, Draco took his hand and forced him onto his feet, telling him it was time to go to bed. Harry and Snape watched them leave with a joint look of amusement and horror.

Draco did not even wait until they reached their bedroom before he began assaulting Neville, kissing him roughly while his hands wandered obscenely. During the past few weeks, Draco had been getting better and better everyday but that meant that his excitement increased in direct correlation. Neville had never thought himself particularly attractive or interesting sexually but Draco's fascination just seemed to grow every second they were together. Neville could not say he did not like it.

Pulling away, Draco winked and ducked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Sighing, he walked into the bedroom, knowing how much Draco loved to play games. He undressed but put on clean boxers and a t-shirt, he did not want to seem to sure of himself. Draco could withdraw the attention any time he wanted and Neville knew the other was sure of this.

Half an hour passed, Neville becoming less and less sure the other would come back until he appeared, wrapped in a bathrobe much too big. It made Neville want to feed him treats endlessly until they was a small curve on his stomach, similar to his own.

But Draco was sinful even with those exposed ribs. With a glorious smile, radiating confidence he loosened the knot and dropped the fabric. Outrageously confident, he wiggled his hips with a rapturously laugh and pounced on Neville, kissing him warmly. It was strangely warm, affectionate considering the bulge pressing against Neville's thighs. Generally Draco's kisses before intimacy were rushed and wet, the ones after he came tended to be the gentle ones.

He pulled back, pink cheeks and then buried his head in Neville's neck, mumbling something he could not quite hear. Or perhaps he didn't quite believe what he heard. Nudging the other man, he mouthed "what", the way they often spoke when the things they wanted to say were difficult to physically sound.

"I want to go...all the way..."

Of course, he had thought about it. Dreamt about it, wished about it. But he did not comprehend that it would actually happen. He could say nothing, do nothing but press his lips to the others hungrily and slide his hand between those warm, firm thighs and whine into that mouth.

"Do you want to?" Draco finally said.

Words were not coming, he could not even remember how to speak. Instead he nodded his head and kissed that chest while his hands grasped flesh needfully. Draco made that lovely growling sound in the back of his throat while pushing Neville's underwear down past his hips and then using his feet, pulled them off completely. Shamelessly, Draco rutted against him, moaning softly in his ear.

But an odd fire burst through Neville and he could lie there, allowing Draco this complete dominance. He forced Draco onto his back and perched between those wonderful legs, taking that erection into his mouth, swallowing slightly. Around the stiff flesh in his mouth, he rolled his tongue, lapping at the skin. A sharp tug of his hair, disrupted Neville's concentration and he gave Draco a confused look.

"Too good," he whimpered, closing his eyes tightly as he lay back.

Neville remembered that tonight was not simply about reaching climax through touching... Draco wanted more and of course he would get it. Moving upwards, he kissed the other's forehead, the tip of his nose and then his lips. Draco's fingers tried to grip his erection but Neville moved away. "Bad Draco", he mouthed, moving back to his spot between those legs.

He encouraged Draco onto his back, then forced his legs up with his feet flat on the mattress. Warming a drop of lube in his hands, he circled one finger around Draco's pucker. Enchanted by the clean, pinkness of it. It was strangely beautiful in its intimacy, something no one had ever seen of this proud pureblood. Something that sung of trust, of affection...perhaps even love?

Draco whimpered, Neville could sense the fear in his voice and was determined to create positive memories, to make this pleasurable. After a while simply stroking his finger over Draco's entrance, he pushed the very tip of his finger in only to have Draco shout out above him. He panicked, withdrew. But Draco took the his finger and placed it back, shivering as it slid home.

The first time Neville had been entered...well it hadn't been that great to begin with but Draco seemed to be taking it rather well all things considered. Before too long he was up to three fingers and Draco was bouncing eagerly onto them, making delicious noises until Neville could barely control himself.

"Can we?"

Draco nodded fiercely, moving onto his knees. Kneeling behind him, Neville was suddenly filled with a sense of exhilaration feeling him. An odd sense of masculinity flooded this blood stream but love was underlying it. Leaning over, he kissed the back of the other's neck, licking down to the small of his back. Slowly he kissed his way back up, running his hands up and down the other's sides.

"Nev...please."

Another shoot of strength and Neville aligned himself, mentally savouring the moment to be recalled for the rest of his life. He knew the tip was always the hardest part and gently pushed it through the muscle. Draco released a loud groan and Neville considered withdrawing again but he could sense the pleasure leaking into Draco's voice.

Then sensation swallowed him and instinct took over him, suddenly he was thrusting fiercely and Draco was making such obscene noises, he felt constantly on the edge. Luckily he managed to reign it in until Draco grabbed his hand, placed it over erection and begged him for release. No longer could he wait, after Draco came on his hand, Neville filled his insides with his release and slumped beside him.

Sighing he kissed the other's neck, burrowing his face into the warm, slightly damp skin. Neville could feel spontaneity bubbling up inside himself and before he could control it, "I love you," slipped out.

Draco did not reply, but kissed him passionately. Continuing to dot them all over his face and pulling him close to his body. Some people could not use words, Neville knew that and this was almost as good. Better than he hoped for? He didn't quite know.

They drifted in and out of sleep until at a very late hour, Draco shook him into full consciousness. He placed a soft kiss on his cheek, another on the tip of his nose and his hands looping around his waist.

"I have something to say," he mouthed. "But I can't say it."

Neville nodded in understanding.

"I could never have survived without you and I won't live without you."

It was a rush of sensation, more intense that orgasm and more widespread. He felt whole and wanted and full of passion. That was it really, Draco's trial would free him, they would enter into the wizarding world and be together for ever.

He hoped.

* * *

**Awwh. Review pwease? ^^**


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